


I Could Tell A Million Tales

by wrote_my_way_out



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7930729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrote_my_way_out/pseuds/wrote_my_way_out
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been 39 years since Alexander’s death and Eliza still lives at the home they had bought after Philip’s death, but she now has in-home care. One of the nurses who takes care of her is quite the storyteller, so Eliza decides to return the favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Could Tell A Million Tales

“Mrs. Hamilton?” Jennifer greeted softly as she pushed open the door to Eliza’s room. The old woman was staring out the window, like she was every morning. She didn’t acknowledge Jennifer’s presence, but something told Jennifer that Eliza knew.

“I brought you something to eat,” she said, hoping for some kind of response. She stared at Eliza expectantly. Eliza looked over her shoulder.

“Of course. Please, have a seat, young lady,” Eliza offered, gesturing to a chair near her own. Jennifer, not wanting to disappoint Eliza, sat down.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Hamilton?” Jennifer asked, slightly concerned. Eliza smiled warmly. She had the kind of smile all stereotypical grandmothers had - warm and inviting, nobody ever felt uncomfortable around Eliza.

“I’m wonderful, dear. I keep thinking about my Hamilton and when we were young. Do you know how we met?” 

“I can’t say that I do, ma’am.”

“It was a winter party my father was throwing. All these young, scrappy and hungry soldiers had been invited. Since it was my father who hosted, I was required to attend. I was very mad at my mother for that before the party, but not after it. There I was, talking to some politicians and businessmen, when I saw Alexander enter. He didn’t look cleaned up or professional in the slightest. He looked rough around the edges, the kind of boy you  _ don’t _ want your father finding out about. And there he was, smiling and mingling with the people whose watches cost more than anything he had ever had in his life,” Eliza began, smiling the whole time. Jennifer shifted in her seat and listened intently.

“He had such beautiful eyes, my Alexander. I knew that even across a room. I grabbed my sister’s arm and whispered, ‘This one’s mine.’ I was so smitten with him that I wasn’t paying attention to anything and nearly ran into the general!” Jennifer couldn’t help but chuckle. It made her happy to see the old woman glowing with joy.

“Angelica walked over to him and led him back to me. I could’ve sworn my heart stopped when he took my hand in his own and kissed it.”

“Wait, he kissed your hand?” Jennifer asked, amazed. She had read about Alexander Hamilton in preparation for this job. The man didn’t seem like he had a polite bone in his body. It was hard to imagine him being romantic.

“He did! Oh, my face was so pink. I could barely speak.” Eliza had a grin covering her entire face by this point.

“He wrote me letters  _ daily _ . He always had something to say. My dear Alexander, always with a pen in his hand.” Eliza’s smile faltered slightly, becoming sad. Jennifer nodded knowingly. The man had always been infamous for his tendency to overwork and neglect his family. 

“I’m so tired,” Eliza stated abruptly. Jennifer snapped to attention, placing a hand on Eliza’s upper arm.

“Do you want me to help you to bed, Mrs. Hamilton?” Jennifer frantically asked, an empty expression covering Eliza’s face.

“I am so tired. It is so long. I want to see Hamilton,” Eliza murmured, drifting off to sleep in the chair at the window.


End file.
